


Anthea's birthday

by Marmosette



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Anthea plays games on her phone, M/M, Sherlock should not be allowed near a phone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-18
Updated: 2012-02-18
Packaged: 2017-10-31 08:57:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/342238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marmosette/pseuds/Marmosette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mycroft and Greg stop by Anthea's birthday party to drop off her gift.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Anthea's birthday

“Really, Greg, we mustn’t stay long,” Mycroft warned as they neared the doors.

“You’re willing to host the damn party, but you’re not willing to go to it?” Greg asked.

“I’m her superior. I can hardly mingle.”

“Why not? You’re both off the clock.”

Mycroft looked at him, his eyebrows raised, lips parted, and for just second, Greg thought he was lost for words. “What a marvelous little world you have in there, Inspector,” he murmured, looking away again and dragging open the door. “Good heavens, if I were paid by the hour, the country would be bankrupt in a month.”

Greg rolled his eyes, following him inside. “Fine. But somehow Donovan and my team manage to survive all drinking in the same pub without a complete breakdown in civilization.”

“Possibly because you’re not responsible for nearly so much of it,” Mycroft said, his public smile already in place.

Greg let the subect drop, following Mycroft inside. He’d been to this pub before, and was forever getting lost inside it. It had probably been an inn and a bordello in a previous century, and done quite well for itself. Now it was a mulit-leveled tangle of nooks, rooms, tables, bars, and seating; everything from two chairs and a tiny table to sleek upholstered benches built into walls, traditional tall stools at bars, and long banquet tables surrounded by chairs. Mycroft had headed for the main staircase, and Greg knew from experience that this bypassed some of the levels completely. He’d learned the hard way that if you used one set of stairs to reach one of the bars to buy your round, you’d better damned well make sure you weren’t too drunk to remember which stairs you came down. If you took the wrong route back, you might never find your party again.

Clearly Anthea’s party was on one of the more private upper floors. He should have known. It didn’t matter what her actual job title was, or who paid her wages - she worked for Mycroft Holmes, and therefore discretion would be second nature. 

Greg could tell they’d reached the party when he heard the ambient noise level ahead drop. Ah. Mycroft had arrived, the birthday girl’s boss, and hilarity must be subdued.  Greg bit his cheek. Well, that was a pretty clear demonstration of why they wouldn’t be staying. 

Anthea came over to greet them, and her smile actually seemed genuine. Greg held back while Mycroft bent to kiss her cheek. “And I think you know Greg Lestrade.”

“Of course,” she said, holding out her hand. She met his eyes, blinked, and then, just slightly, blushed.

Greg was instantly delighted. They’d never officially met, having seen each other at crime scenes. He’d heard John’s stories about her, and had actually been watching the night she had blown him off after abducting him earlier on Mycroft’s behalf. And John was a younger man, handsome enough, friendly, personable, and a gallant army doctor as well. Anthea had just blinked at him. And here she was, being formally introduced to him by her boss, and she had actually blushed. 

“Happy birthday,” Greg said, grinning, and leaning in to kiss her cheek lightly as well. She ducked her head slightly, and he made damned certain he tempered his reaction. It was her party, she may have had a date, and he didn’t want to start any fights. No, really, he didn’t.

Mycroft cleared his throat, and Greg looked over at him innocently. “I’m afraid we can’t stay long. Just looked in to bring you your gift.”

Greg scanned the room. No one was overtly looking at them, but there were probably thirty people in the room, an even mix of male and female, and all under forty. Another good reason not to stay.

“That’s very kind of you, sir,” Anthea said, some actual feeling in her voice as she accepted the slim package Mycroft handed her. Greg looked back in time to see her weigh it questioningly, and then blink up at Mycroft, recoiling slightly. “Oh. Oh!”

He looked to Mycroft, who seemed to be smiling innocently enough, and saw Greg’s glance. “It’s entirely up to you,” he told Anthea.

She hesitated slightly, her fingers sliding across the paper, but then she grinned like a school girl and simply tore it off. Inside was a gold, metallic envelope, which she slit with a finger, and pulled out the sleekest piece of black plastic Greg had ever seen. It was shiny, and incredibly plain. 

“It’s a phone,” he said, knowing it made him the dumb one, but not even caring. After all, he’d learned that quite a few people liked explaining things to him.

Anthea didn’t even look at him, her fingers already stroking her new toy. “Yes, it is. 4G, 12 megapixels -”

“Don’t,” Greg said, raising his hand to stop her. “I won’t understand, and anyway, you’re all giddy and happy about your boss giving you something that’s just a work tool.”

“I couldn’t have told you much more anyway unless you have the right security clearance,” Anthea said, finally glancing up at him. 

“Work,” Greg repeated firmly.

“But sexy,” she countered.

“Good grief. Look, next year, I’ll do your present, and it won’t be work related, and then you can help me try to explain to Mycroft how lives work. Yeah?”

“Sounds difficult.”

“The first step is accepting that there’s a problem, so you’re well ahead of him,” Greg said.

“Before Lestrade gets any ideas about what counts as having a life, I think I’d better take him away,” Mycroft interrupted. “Enjoy your evening, and I’ll see you next week.”

“Thank you, sir. And it was nice to meet you, Inspector.”

As they made their way back down the stairs, Mycroft ahead, he turned his head slightly to say, “It wasn’t the phone that was the real gift.”

“What, you used real gold leaf on the envelope?”

“It was the SIM.”

Greg frowned. “What, the little card that you store your data on? But surely she’s already got... I mean, she’d want to transfer her information from her old phone, wouldn’t she?”

Mycroft paused on a landing to smile back at him. “Which is what I have done. Sherlock got hold of her phone, and she had been complaining in the office that he had hacked all of her games and left rude messages on all the high score tables.”

It took a moment to register, but then Greg burst out laughing. Mycroft set his hand on Greg’s elbow and nudged him on down the stairs. “If he had actually played the games, she might not have minded so much. I had someone....correct things for her.”

“That was really nice,” Greg said, still grinning. “I’m impressed. I’m surprised, though. I mean, I would’ve thought Sherlock would love Angry Birds.”

“He did, at first. That was what started it. But he couldn’t pass her, so he cheated. He’s never been very good at games.”

“Yeah, speaking of presents, maybe I’ll give John an Xbox. Get him Guitar Hero. Give Sherlock a shot - I mean, it’s kind of like a violin, right?”


End file.
